Almonds and Spice
by sinister banana
Summary: Oneshot. She could feel his breath upon her lips. His violet eyes bore into hers, and the smell of almonds and spice enveloped her. A MirSan fic.


A/N: Ah, my first attempt at writing some San/Mir fluff. Unfortunately it isn't quite as fluffy as I had intended it to be so you don't have to gag too much. ->

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Everything in the Inuyasha world belongs to the great Rumiko Takahashi. But you probably already knew that. :grins sheepishly:_**

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Almonds and Spice**_

"HENTAI!"

The resounding smack could be heard within _and_ outside of Kaede's hut. Furious muttering ensued and a livid Sango soon appeared at the thatched doorway, hands balled tightly into fists. Her face was red with anger and she was positively seething in fury. The taijiya was so furious that her right eye had actually begun to develop an odd sort of twitch.

Inside the hut, she heard a young man groan softly and rustle around as if to sit up. The monk had passed out cold after she had struck him hard across the face for groping her bottom…again. She frowned. They had actually been having quite a good conversation prior to that moment. It had been just the two of them tonight. Kagome was back in her era, Inuyasha had left whilst muttering something that sounded strangely like "damn wench and her stupid homework" (quite obviously leaving to get said "wench"), and Shippou had quickly grown bored without his Kagome so Kaede had taken the little kitsune and Kirara to a neighboring village to help gather some much-needed herbs.

That had left Sango and Miroku completely alone.

At first she didn't know what to think of it.

She saw him scoot closer to her as she waxed her Hiraikotsu. Shooting him dark looks she warned him repeatedly that if he touched her inappropriately no woman would _ever_ bear his child. Miroku immediately sweatdropped at her insinuations and decided that it was in his children's best interests to meditate on the far side of the hut.

Slowly a conversation arose. Miroku told rather interesting stories about his previous adventures with Hachi. Sango smiled and burst into laughter at all the ridiculous things the monk and his demon companion had done. Miroku watched her closely, grinning at the way her eyes would light up in interest or how her nose would crinkle when she thought something to be strange. He couldn't seem to recall a time without Sango when he hadn't felt appreciated and enjoyed. Inuyasha and Kagome were always too busy quarreling amongst themselves to provide much companionship and Shippou was far too young. Maybe that's why he had grown so close to the taijiya.

But would they always be this close? Miroku wondered. His time was running short. It was only a matter of years (if even) until his kazaana would literally swallow him whole. He realized with a jolt just how much he would miss all the little things Sango did for him if he were not to defeat Naraku in time. He would miss the way she smiled and the way she laughed at his stories. He would miss the graceful way her body would flex and curve as she tossed her Hiraikotsu during battles. He would miss the way she enjoyed his companionship and the late-night bettings of when Kagome and Inuyasha would _finally_ get together. Mostly he would miss her spirit. Her shyness, her eagerness, her hot-tempered and fiery nature. He would miss it all.

Quite unexpectedly (to Sango) Miroku had ceased talking and grew very serious. He appeared to be deep in thought and unconsciously fingered the prayer beads on the palm of his right hand. Sango frowned. It was so unlike the monk to suddenly change moods.

"Houshi-sama?" she had asked concerned, "Are you alright?"

Miroku lifted his head and smiled slightly. "Sango, you have no reason to worry about this poor monk. I will always be fine whenever I am with you." He let his heart spill out unconsciously, but how would she know that?

At first Sango didn't know what to think. Surely the monk couldn't possibly have meant what he said? Could he? Nonetheless, she could feel her breath catch and knew her face must have been on fire as she noticed that Miroku had slowly sidled closer to her and was brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Sango bit her lip as she stared into deep violet eyes. In spite of herself, she relished the feel of his cool hand caressing the side of her face as he brushed away her loose hair. Her heart raced at his gentle touch. Sometimes he appeared so kind and almost loving.

She smiled sadly. It was times like this that she forgot all her past troubles and time seemed to stand still. It was times like this that she let her guard down and just wanted to be with the houshi despite his lecherous ways. And it was times like this that he hurt her the most. Not more than two seconds later she felt the all-too-familiar sensation of a hand groping her bottom.

She honestly hadn't meant to strike him that hard.

But she couldn't deny that he had it coming.

Sango narrowed her eyes happily, envisioning a certain perverse monk gingerly touching a blazing red handprint on his face. She prayed to kami that the mark from her hand would stay on his face for weeks. It was the least she could hope for. A soft rustling behind her signaled that Miroku had fully revived.

"S-Sango?"

His voice broke her lovely envisions, each involving a very bruised and battered monk. She huffed and prepared to storm off.

"Sango, please."

He touched her arm and felt her tense up. Her right eye increased in its twitching but she didn't move.

Miroku sighed. He had gotten her really upset this time. The monk ran a hand through his hair. Why couldn't he control his…erm…urges? Actually he did know why. Sango sat there looking so vulnerable and cute. He paused for a moment. When had he begun thinking of the strong demon-slayer as being _vulnerable_ and _cute_! Well, cute for who knows how long…but _vulnerable_! Never! Except for when she sat there, blushing as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He let his mind wander idly. She really was something. Overpowering one moment and shy the next. She was…beyond gorgeous. And she just sat there radiating beauty and strength.

At the present moment she also radiated fury. But Miroku always liked the way her cheeks flushed when she was mad. Except for now. Because now she wouldn't even look at him.

Well, he sighed. He could always reason with her. He smirked slightly and began to turn on the charm. "Sango, my sweet, I meant you no harm. You just looked so…" He paused, searching for a word. Gropable? Willing? Breathtakingly gorgeous! Somehow, he didn't think those words would help him at all. "…there." He finished lamely. "I try stopping it but sometimes my hand cannot help itself."

Her eye twitched again. Twitch. Twitch.

"Sango, you are a lovely, kind, compassionate, and forgiving woman. And I hope that somehow you can find it in your heart to forgive a poor houshi such as myself."

She scoffed at his words. Twitch. She had had enough.

Sango tore out of Miroku's grasp and spun around. "You!" she poked him heatedly in the chest. "Will not be able to sweet talk your way out of this one! I am sick and tired of your ways and how you treat me like a piece of meat! I am a demon-slayer, houshi-sama! And I try to be a well-respected one at that!"

Tears shone in her eyes but she wouldn't let them fall in front of him. She couldn't tell him why she was truly upset. She didn't even understand it herself. All she knew was that she hurt terribly and her heart felt like it could burst. She knew she couldn't reveal to houshi-sama how flustered he made her feel when he was being nice. Or how pleasant he smelt. He smelled like almonds and spice. Or how she felt totally relaxed and at peace with him. Not when she was relatively sure that he didn't feel the same way towards her. Why else would he grope her like every other woman he saw?

She shook her head to compose herself. No! Sango would _never_ let Miroku see just how much he hurt her. So instead she glared at him.

"I am leaving, houshi-sama, and don't you dare even _think_ about following me!" And with those final words Sango turned on her heel and marched off into the forest.

Miroku cast his eyes downward. Despite all her attempts to mask her true emotions, he had seen the hurt that filled her eyes. His eyebrows constricted in silent pain and thought. He didn't even know why she was so distraught. It made him feel terrible. Now that he recalled, her face always seemed to crumple whenever he groped her. Was it because she thought he didn't respect her like she had said? But he did. She was the most talented and incredibly amazing woman he had ever met. He admired her strength and will to continue through hardships. Inwardly he was also somehow positive that he would never be satisfied with any other woman as a prospective wife. The thought kind of…frightened him in a strange way and thrilled him in another. He had to let her know how he felt. Even if it was merely letting her know that his respect for her far exceeded anyone else's and that he didn't view her as just _any_ ordinary woman.

Miroku sighed and rubbed his temples. He decided he was doing far, _far_ too much thinking today. He stared glumly at the stars overhead before taking a deep breath and plunging forward into the night. He prayed silently that Sango wouldn't murder him when he found her.

Miroku followed a path of broken twigs, an obvious trail left behind from a very distressed Sango who had blundered blindly through the foliage. Slowly, but surely, he could make out muffled sobs coming from up ahead. 'Dear Sango, did I make you cry?' Miroku thought worriedly to himself. His heart wretched when the trees opened up into a small clearing, revealing the broken and tattered taijiya weeping silently on an old rock in the middle of the tall grasses.

Miroku stopped dead in his tracks, watching Sango's shoulders rise and fall rapidly as silver tears spilled out into the moonlight. He hardly ever saw her cry. Usually she only ever cried about Kohaku. The knowledge that he was the reason for these unneeded tears to be shed was unbearable. He stifled an anguished sort of cry that threatened to escape from his throat.

"I know you're there, houshi-sama!" Sango suddenly called out. Miroku was taken aback. How did she know he had followed her? "I can smell your presence."

_It's almonds and spice_, Sango thought silently to herself.

Miroku slowly advanced forward until he was standing directly beside Sango. Stiffening, she quickly wiped away her tears and sat very stoically. She didn't look at him or say anything. He took it as a sign that she was ready to hear what he had to say.

"Sango," he murmured quietly, sitting down next to her. She stifled a sob. He reached out to comfort her but she shrugged his arm off her shoulders.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed. "Bouzu!"

Miroku looked like he had been slapped in the face at the word. He stared down at his wooden sandals trying to think of something to say. But nothing that could help was coming to his mind. "Sango, I—" his voice broke at his loss of words. "I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly. "I-I respect you. More than anyone else I know. Your bravery is more admirable that most men, your kind nature would put a dove to shame, your talents—"  
"I don't want to hear any more of it, houshi-sama!" Sango interrupted angrily. She paused for a moment and looked utterly devastated. "I don't want to you lie to me."

Miroku's jaw dropped. She-she thought he was _lying_ to her? "Sango, I'm not—"

"Houshi-sama!" She stood up. "I advise you not to talk anymore. Please just let me be!" she pleaded. She turned around to walk away. Miroku quickly seized her by the arm forcing her to look at him. "Let go of me!" she shrieked, struggling to get out of the tight hold he had on her.

"No, Sango," he stated calmly. "I will not let _anything_ take you away from me." She ceased struggling at the determined look in the monk's eyes. Glaring at him, her eyes promised that even though she hadn't won the battle, she would still win the war. He stared back with equal promise. After several tense moments Sango let her eyes drop to the ground. "Sango, we need to talk." He slowly sat her down upon the rock.

"Fine then, houshi-sama. Talk!" she said crossly as she turned her back on him. She knew she was being unreasonable and very childish, but at the moment she decided she didn't particularly care.

Miroku sighed as she huffed heatedly. "Sango," he began. "I'm sorry you feel awful that I don't respect you. But I do! You have to believe me. Your happiness and joy means the world to me! And to see you looking so wounded because of me—" He paused for a moment to recollect his thoughts. In spite of herself, she turned around slowly intrigued by his choice of words. He looked at her, took a deep breath, and continued. "I would rather die than to see you hurting because of something I said or did." He looked up earnestly, praying that she would accept his apology, weak as it was. "Please, Sango. Tell me what I did wrong!"

Sango carefully studied the houshi's face. Unable to detect anything that would signal a lie she let her head hang. There was no way she could ever tell Miroku how he was hurting her. That he was breaking her on the inside. Her chest throbbed in pain and her hand went up to clench it. She felt her chin being lifted by strong yet gentle fingers.

"Sango," Miroku murmured. A single teardrop ran down her cheek. He carefully wiped the salty liquid away. He blushed slightly as he felt Sango nudge her cheek gently against the palm of his hand. It had to be his imagination. She would never accept him for his lecherous ways.

"Houshi-sama?" He heard Sango sigh quietly. "Please stop. It…hurts."

Miroku quickly withdrew his hand, looking at it as though it may have scalded her. "What, Sango? What did I do? Are my fingers too rough? What's the matter? How did I hurt you?"

Sango looked down at her chest. "No," she whispered. "Your fingers are fine. I-I just can't stand it how you treat me like I'm something special…because I know I'm not. I know, houshi-sama, that I am just another girl to you. I am not special, I am not extraordinarily beautiful." She couldn't believe she was admitting her most private thoughts to him. "I am a warrior. I know I am different and you would never look at me as anything other than a taijiya."

Miroku didn't know what to say. How could she think that about herself? He was shocked. "Sango, you are the most stunningly beautiful woman I have ever met." She looked up in surprise. Her eyebrows twisted in confusion. "And you're wrong. You are very, _very_ special to me. Out of all the women I have ever groped, you are the only one that makes me truly happy. You are the only person I could never live without." He wasn't fully aware of the words that were spilling from his mouth. All he knew was that they came from his heart. He hoped that Sango could see that.

She slowly let the words sink it, letting their true meaning reveal themselves to her. When they did she let out a tiny gasp.

"Houshi-sama?" She reached out her fingertips to brush the side of his face. She wanted to know this was real. That it was really him saying all this stuff to her. He grasped her outstretched hand and gently kissed it. She felt her face heat up as he slowly moved closer to her. "Houshi—"

"Please," Miroku whispered. "Call me by my name."

Sango gulped as his face leaned closer to hers. "M-Miroku?" She could feel his breath upon her lips. His violet eyes bore into hers, and the smell of almonds and spice enveloped her.

"Sango?" Miroku asked quite huskily. Her lips were mere millimeters away from his and it was doing dizzying things to his brain. Her wide chocolate eyes focused on him.

"Yes, M-Miroku?" She had a hard time saying his true name.

"Sango…I love you."

And with that he closed the remaining gap between them as his mouth came crashing down on hers. Her fingers entwined in his hair, and his hands held either side of her face. He bit down on her bottom lip slightly causing her to gasp in pain. Taking advantage of the moment, he dove his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting her. He grinned as her tongue dueled gently with his, almost as if she was unsure of what to do. She tasted like berries. Breathless, they pulled apart.

Miroku grinned while looking down at Sango. Her lips were pink from the kiss that they had just shared. They sat together in a comfortable sort of silence. He stroked her hair gently, every once in a while stopping to brush some hair away from the edge of her face. Sango gave a happy sort of sigh.

"Miroku," she smiled foolishly. He looked down at her expectantly as she traced patterns on his forearm.

"What is it, Sango?" he inquired gently.

"I love you too." She leaned up smiling and began kissing his soft lips again.

OWARI

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A/N: Hope there wasn't too much OOC-ness. If you leave a nice little review I may give you a special treat! 

Mini-dictionary (in alphabetical order):

bouzu – disrespectful term for a monk  
hentai – pervert  
Hiraikotsu – Sango's boomerang (literal translation means "Flying Bone")  
houshi – low-level monk  
kazaana – wind tunnel  
kitsune – fox demon  
taijiya – demon exterminator


End file.
